Broken Vows
by Tanba Josav
Summary: 'But that doesn't change the fact that last I saw you, you were planning on joining the Watch. Donning the black and taking some tedious vows that included, if I recall, not taking crowns or glory and worst of all; staying in the Watch until you died.' Tyrion questions Jon's appearance at Dragonstone. COMPLETE. RATED T as a caution only


Disclaimer: Thank you to George R.R. Martin for creating such a brilliant series of books and thanks to HBO, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss for such a captivating show that keeps us coming back year after year. I make nothing from this, unless you count the promise from the Night King not to turn me into a wight.

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Tyrion found Jon Snow standing on one of the many parapets that surrounded Dragonstone's walls.

'You'd think,' Tyrion strode up to the stone wall, rising onto his toes to peer over the edge. He could see nothing of interest below but cliffs and beaches, 'after all those years at the Wall you'd be sick of brooding at great heights, but here you are.'

Jon leant his gloved hands against the stone and leant over, 'Not that great a height.'

'Well no,' Tyrion conceded, 'not compared to some.'

'Are you goin' to piss over this one?'

Tyrion gave a sharp bark of laughter at the memory, 'No, somehow I think that might be frowned upon, don't you?'

Instead of answering Jon just stood back up, straightening his cloak so that it sat more comfortably on his shoulders and resumed staring out to sea. Tyrion turned so his back was facing the wall and slumped ever so slightly so that most of him was out of the biting wind. He sighed, envious of Snow's heavy, dark cloak, although he felt the fox pelt trim was a bit much.

'Haven't really changed the colour scheme I see,' the shorter man said. When he noted Snow's questioning look he indicated what the other man was wearing. 'Black, I don't think I've seen you wearing anything else.'

'It is winter,' Jon said.

'Well, yes the dreariest of fashion seasons,' Tyrion said, folding his arms against the cold. 'Speaking of black . . .' Tyrion turned to his right to stare at Jon Snow.

Tyrion's silence finally pierced Jon's contemplation and the younger man turned his head to look at the dwarf.

Now he had Snow's full attention Tyrion began talking. 'You can imagine my surprise when I found out that my good friend and fellow bastard in arms was King in the North.'

Jon shook his head, 'You're no bastard, Tyrion.'

'Now, now,' Tyrion corrected him, 'remember what I told you "all dwarves are –'

'"– bastards in their father's eyes".' Jon finished with him. 'You just said that to try and make me feel better.'

'True,' Tyrion smiled a little at Jon's words. 'We outsiders need to stick together.' The smile dropped away. 'But that doesn't change the fact that last I saw you, you were planning on joining the Watch. Donning the black and taking some tedious vows that included, if I recall, not taking crowns or glory and worst of all; staying in the Watch until you died. And yet here you are on a wall, but not _the_ Wall.'

Jon pulled his cloak tighter around him and tucked his chin down on his chest. 'What are you trying to say?'

'Say?' Tyrion rubbed his right ear, which was beginning to go numb in the cold. 'Perhaps I'm not so much saying as beginning to question the advice I gave Daenerys about you.'

'What advice?' Jon watched as Tyrion gave up fighting the wind and sat down on the ground, his back pressed up against the cold stone wall.

'Oh the usual,' Tyrion hugged his knees to his chest, trying to conserve some body heat. 'You can trust Jon Snow, Your Grace,' Tyrion waved a hand at the imaginary Queen he was addressing, 'He might be a bastard but he was raised by Ned Stark. You will find no more an honest man in all the seven kingdoms. His is a man of his word,' Tyrion glanced up at Jon, 'or at least I thought that was the case.'

Jon shifted uneasily at Tyrion's words. 'I _am_ a man of my word.'

'And yet here you are, oh King.' Tyrion watched as a muscle bunched in Snow's jaw, he noted the younger man's hand clench at where the pommel of his sword would normally be, and was glad that Daenerys had insisted the Northmen disarm before entering Dragonstone. 'Sit down will you.' Tyrion slapped the hard ground next to him, 'or are you too good, now, to sit in the dirt with the rest of us?'

With a growl Jon threw himself onto the ground, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. Tyrion mimicked Jon's posture and resisted the urge to tug the edge of the other man's cloak over his own legs.

Jon stared down at his clenched hands, bunched in his cloak. 'I meant those words when I said them, I never broke my vows.'

'And yet,' Tyrion repeated slowly, 'here you are.'

Jon took a deep breath and then another. Slowly he unclenched his fists and stared off into the distance.

Tyrion sighed, gods now Jon was brooding sitting down. He had forgotten how hard it was to make a Stark open up. 'Next you'll tell me you found some loophole, left the Watch on a technicality.'

Jon snorted at Tyrion's words. 'Aye,' he muttered, still refusing to look at the other man.

Tyrion sat up straighter, this was unexpected. 'Those words have been spoken for thousands of years, there is no loophole. The only way out of the Watch is if your –'

'Dead,' Jon finished harshly. His left hand came up and brushed against his armoured chest.

'Nonsense, you're not dead.' Tyrion scoffed at the thought. 'Not unless you're one of these dead men you came to warn us about.'

Jon finally turned to look at Tyrion, 'Are my eyes blue?' he asked, 'am I tryin' to kill you all?'

'No,' Tyrion stared at Jon's brown eyes, 'and not at the moment.'

'Then I'm alive, like the rest of you.'

'And yet you claim you were dead,' Tyrion shook his head in disbelief, 'how?'

Jon swallowed, a look of pain flashed through his eyes. He looked almost as lost as the last time Tyrion had seen him at the Wall. Then the look was gone and the boy disappeared, replaced by the man who had somehow died and returned.

'When I was Lord Commander,' Jon began quietly, 'I made the decision to let the Free Folk past the Wall.'

'I thought the Wall was to stop the Wildlings?'

Jon shook his head, 'The purpose of the Wall was to stop something much worse.'

'Scary stories and children's tales,' Tyrion said quietly.

Both men turned their heads as a distant bellow marked where one of the dragons flew.

'Not everything is a tale,' Jon said.

'So I have learnt,' Tyrion replied. 'Are you saying one of the Wildlings killed you?'

Jon shook his head, sharply. 'No, not them, they more than anyone understand what we're up against. It was some of my brothers,' Jon spat out the word, 'that decided I had betrayed them.'

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably at Jon's words. 'Your own brothers of the Watch killed you? And I thought my family was bad.'

Jon ignored Tyrion's attempt at lightening the mood. 'They stabbed me,' Jon unconsciously touched his chest again, 'even Olly was involved, he was only a boy, and I thought I could trust him.'

'I'm sorry,' Tyrion said quietly.

Both men sat silently for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts.

'So you were wounded,' Tyrion finally said at last, 'you weren't really dead, you just appeared so. If enough people believed it, you could leave on that technicality.'

Jon wrapped his cloak tighter around him before turning to look at Tyrion. 'I was stabbed in the heart, I lay dead for days, this was no technicality. If I had only been wounded I would still be Lord Commander, I would still be serving in the Watch.'

'Starks and their honour,' Tyrion muttered to himself. He raised his voice, 'how is this possible then?'

Jon shrugged. 'Stannis Baratheon had a red priestess with him; she was there at the keep when I died. She was the one that brought be back to life.'

'Followers of the Lord of Light,' Tyrion nodded, 'I've met one or two of them in Meereen. Never knew they had that particular talent, though.'

'She didn't either,' Jon said, 'got the impression she was as surprised it worked as everyone else.'

'Still a handy talent to have, especially going into a war, where is she now?'

'Gone,' Jon looked away from Tyrion, 'and if I ever see her again, I'll kill her.'

'You have a strange way of saying thank you, you know that?'

'I never asked to be brought back, but that's not the reason why.'

Tyrion frowned at Jon's vague answer, 'Are you going to _tell_ me the reason why?'

Jon just tucked his chin down on his chest and remained silent.

'Fine,' Tyrion snapped, Jon wasn't the first stubborn monarch he had dealt with. In his mind it seemed to be a character flaw they all shared. If they refused to answer, Tyrion would just let them think they had won. But he would circle back to the question eventually, in his own time. 'So with nothing better to do you decided to retake Winterfell?'

'Sansa needed me,' Jon said.

'I'm glad you were there for her,' Tyrion said, sincerely. 'And in the process took care of a troublesome problem when you eliminated the Boltons.'

'I didn't do it for you.'

'Nobody ever does, but it was useful nonetheless. And in return for retaking Winterfell the Northern Lords made you King. ' Tyrion scratched his beard, 'Tell me how well did they react to the recently dead news?'

Jon shifted a little. 'I've never told them.'

No, Tyrion couldn't imagine that conversation going well. The Northmen were superstitious about everything, they probably would have dragged Jon to the nearest pyre and burnt him alive just to be on the safe side. 'Well they will not hear it from me.'

Jon watched as Tyrion began to make preparations to stand. 'You can't tell her either.'

Tyrion paused in a kneeling position, one hand resting on the wall; he cast his mind back over the conversation trying to work out who _she_ might be. 'Sansa?'

'The Queen.'

With a grunt Tyrion rose to his feet, his hands immediately going to the small of his back in an effort to massage away the pain from sitting on cold ground for so long. 'While I'm sure my sister would delight to hear of your death I don't see how –' he caught the full impact of Jon's glare and hid a smile. 'Ah, _that_ Queen. You don't think Daenerys might think it important?'

Jon stood in one smooth motion, making Tyrion a little jealous at his natural grace. 'She'd think me a fool.' He turned once again to stare at the sea.

'You've already told her of dead men, what's one more?'

'Because she wouldn't believe me, like you don't believe me.' Jon sighed as he leant his forearms on the stone wall. 'Because I don't want people treating me like a –' he stopped talking suddenly, looking sideways at Tyrion.

Tyrion's smile held no warmth. 'Like a freak? Take it from me, you get used to it.' He held up a hand to avert any apology. 'Being outsiders made us the men we are today. On a good day I would not change that for anything, today is a good day. Besides it was your man who almost exposed your story in the throne room. I believe his words were "took a knife to the heart".'

Jon's face suddenly went blank, and he swallowed heavily.

'Yes, I noticed that,' Tyrion said, 'and so did she. The Queen will have questions.'

Jon stared down at his clenched fists. 'You still can't tell her.'

'Well what am I supposed to do, lie?' Tyrion asked.

'It's what you're good at.'

Tyrion snorted at Jon's words. 'You say that like it's a bad thing.' He ignored Jon's glare for a moment before speaking again. 'Fine, I will not tell her the truth, but I cannot lie to her directly.'

Jon turned his back to the wall and folded his arms. 'What does that mean?'

'If she asks, I will try and steer her towards another subject. But if she insists I will tell her the truth. Oh don't give me that look, Daenerys has dragons,' Tyrion indicated his stature, 'and I'm barely bite sized. I've not survived this long to become some gigantic lizards' afternoon snack.'

'Will she insist?'

Tyrion shrugged, 'She isn't the first monarch I've dealt with. This is what I do, Jon Snow; I juggle lies, I keep people's secrets. It's a good thing people find me so charming and amusing.'

Jon snorted.

'Some people find me charming and amusing,' Tyrion amended.

'Aye, who?' Jon asked.

Tyrion folded his arms, 'Women find me amusing.' He frowned at Jon's head shake. 'Fine, women I pay find me amusing, everyone else just puts up with me.' He was rewarded by a slight smile from Snow.

The pair stood in the howling wind, Jon bracing himself against a particularly strong gust. Tyrion just ducked his head back behind the parapet.

'This is ridiculous,' the dwarf muttered, 'there is wine and a warm fire inside. Why are you even out here?'

'Reminds me of home.'

'Only a Stark would look fondly on this gods' forsaken weather.'

Mouth twitching in amusement Jon looked down at Tyrion. 'You southern lords are soft.'

'Yes, must be all that time sitting on thrones.' Tyrion snorted at Snow's words, 'terrible for the posture.'

Jon pushed himself away from the parapet and began walking slowly back towards the door. 'Winter is here, Tyrion, it will soon toughen you up.'

Tyrion was forced to raise his voice over the roar of the wind. 'Oh good, I can't wait. My life has been _so_ easy up until now.'

Jon paused for a lull in the wind before pulling the door open. He waited until they were both inside, the wind slamming the door closed behind them, before speaking, 'Why are did you come lookin' for me?'

'Honestly?' Tyrion paused to think, the sudden absence of wind ringing in his ears. 'I wasn't sure about you, I needed to know whether the boy I remembered could have broken such a sacred vow, how you had justified your actions and whether or not you could still be trusted.' Tyrion turned his head to look at Jon in the deepening gloom of the stairwell. 'Turned out I needn't have worried; you are still the same Jon Snow I last saw on the Wall.'

Jon shook his head at Tyrion's words. 'I am not the same person you remember.'

'And I am not the same rich idiot who thought pissing on the world from a great height was the ultimate act of defiance.' Tyrion admitted, 'luckily for the both of us we survived long enough to grow up.' He glanced at Jon, 'or at least one of us grew.'

'So you're convinced I broke no vow,' Jon said, 'now what?'

'Now, we leave this dreary stairwell and retire to somewhere more comfortable.' Tyrion gestured for Jon to lead the way. 'Royalty first,' he said with a grin.

The light around the pair quickly faded as the clouds rolled in to cover the meagre sunshine outside. The stairwell grew increasingly darker, making Tyrion wish he had thought to bring a torch with him.

Jon had noted the lack of light as well. 'You just want me to go first so you don't fall and break your neck.' Stretching out his arms Jon placed a hand on either side of the smooth stone walls and began to slowly move down the stairs. 'And I'm no damn king,' he shot back at Tyrion.

'Well you certainly don't act like one,' Tyrion told Jon's broad back.

'And how are kings supposed to act?'

'If recent examples are anything to go by, then badly.' Tyrion said, feeling for each step as he slowly descended behind Jon.

'What about queens?' Jon asked, as the light from an open doorway came into view.

Both men stepped out into the lightened corridor as Tyrion contemplated Jon's words. 'My experience of queens is rather more limited. My dear sister seems to have fallen into a typical kingly role of murder and mayhem.' Tyrion gestured for Jon to follow him as they began walking down the hallway. 'Daenerys on the other hand, is following her own path.'

'What do you mean?'

Tyrion glanced up at Jon, wondering if the other man's curiosity stemmed from needing to gather any information he could as he was effectively being held hostage by an unknown quantity or whether something more might be at play. 'Daenerys might have been born to be queen,' he began, 'but it wasn't an easy path to follow. She had many obstacles in her way and has fought hard to be here. She understands what power can do to a person and it has made her appreciative of lesser people around her, in fact she reminds me of a certain northern king. You two should talk more; you might find you have a lot in common. Ah,' Tyrion stopped before a door and turned the handle, 'here we are.'

'She doesn't seem one for talkin'.' Jon noted as he entered Tyrion's assigned rooms. The air inside was several degrees warmer courtesy of a roaring fire and Jon quickly began to sweat. The younger man pulled off his great cloak, folding it over one arm as he looked about, trying to find a suitable place to put it.

'I confess she might to a bit distracted at the moment, what with trying to retake her throne and having to deal with a tiresome guest who refuses to bend the knee.' Tyrion noted Jon was still standing by the door. 'Come in,' he commanded, waving an absent hand off to his left. 'Throw that anywhere.'

'Tiresome?' Jon placed the cloak on a nearby table and followed Tyrion over to the fireplace.

'You prefer unruly? Stubborn, annoying, wearisome perhaps? I confess I'm not as eloquent when sober. Something I plan to remedy immediately.' Tyrion picked up a jug of wine that had been warming on the hearth and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 'Not the best you'll ever drink, but it will do.'

'Do for what?

Tyrion gestured Jon towards a chair placed by the fireside. 'For tales of horror and daring of course,' he poured a generous measure into two cups, handing one to Jon before seating himself in the other chair.

'What tales?' Jon asked, cautiously, the creaking of his leather and armour as he sat a loud counterpoint to the quiet crackling of the fire.

'Why of your time beyond the Wall,' Tyrion said, taking a sip of his wine. 'Tell me everything; spare no salacious detail, especially the parts about the dead.' Tyrion leaned forwards and lowered his voice. 'Think of it as a trial run, if you can convince me you just might convince the queen too.'

'I don't know where to begin.'

'I find it works best to start at the beginning and end sometime when the wine runs out.' Tyrion held up his cup in a salute before taking a drink.

Jon stared into the depths of his wooden cup, as he absently swirled the wine. He took a small sip as he collected his thoughts. 'I remember the first time I went beyond the Wall; everything was so much more –'

'Colder?' Tyrion ventured.

'No,' Jon shook his head, frowning slightly at the memory. 'Sharper; everything was different, the light, the scents, the sounds. I was so much more aware of the world around me, the danger we were in. Any moment could be our last; I have never felt more alive.'

As Jon began to talk, Tyrion settled himself more comfortably amongst the cushions. He began to take a large gulp of wine before stopping himself and settling for a small sip instead. Better to ration the drinking for now, Tyrion suspected he was in for a long night.


End file.
